


Hidden Messages

by Ki_writes



Series: Lams One Shots [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: "fuck you" flowers, Alexander is an idiot, Alexander likes to be sassy, First Meeting, Flirting, Gen, He's also kind of a bad customer, John is a sweet gardener, John just thinks he's cute, Prompt Fill, Series, flower shop au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-23
Updated: 2016-07-23
Packaged: 2018-07-26 03:49:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7558996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ki_writes/pseuds/Ki_writes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A casual day in the flower shop turns a little weird when a quirky man comes running in demanding flowers for a very peculiar reason. </p><p>Fill of this prompt: Person A owns a flower shop and person B comes storming in one day, slaps 20 bucks on the counter and says “How do I passive-aggressively say fuck you in flower?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hidden Messages

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this is me filling a bunch of prompts while I have writers block on all my other projects. Sorry not sorry.

John knelt down behind the counter, sifting through the box there to find his favorite pair of scissors. The new roses he had arranged on the window display definitely needed some total love and care, and John wanted nothing better for the new family members than his best pair of scissors. There was a cool jazz song playing on the speaker and John found himself humming along subconsciously, tapping his foot while he searched. 

“Ah ha! There you are.” He grinned as the scissors slid into his hand and he straightened out his back. John sauntered over to the window, smiling at a lady outside who was admiring his display. He went off, snipping at the loose leaves in the bouquet and trimming the unhealthy buds. Another few people passed by and smiled, and John returned the favor. He’d become known around town for his flowers, his shop, and his kind smile.

The big rush of customers typically came around four or five; that’s when people got off of work and often needed the emergency apology or anniversary flowers. And John made sure to take care of them, but the time was a little after one, so he’d only seen a few men that morning claiming that their wives needed a pick-me-up, or a ‘get well soon’ bouquet. Once the new roses were trimmed John turned back to the counter, organizing a few new seed packet displays he had created the day before. 

A bit of a bouncier song came on the radio, and John bounced along with it. Having his own store meant that he could do as he pleased, play whatever he wanted, and sing as loudly as he desired (when other people weren’t in, of course). So, John took up to dancing, rocking his hips back and forth with the beat while he kneeled to get the lower rings of the display. Suddenly, the bell on the door rang out and John smiled, stopping his absurd movements. 

“Welcome to-” 

A hand landed in front of his face on the counter, a twenty dollar bill pressed firmly to the glass. John tilted his head up to see the mysterious face and was met with an angry looking man with the cutest eyes John had ever seen. The man had jet black hair that was pulled back in a loose ponytail and John thought he might lose his balance for a moment. He stood upright, and before he could get his first sentence out, the man grabbed his arm. 

“How do I passive-aggressively say fuck you in flowers?” He asked, his eyes scanning the room for possible solutions. 

“Umm…” John stuttered for a moment, searching the man’s face for any signs of it being a joke. “You want to say-”

“Fuck you, in flowers. Yes.” He stated it so matter of factly, as though that was a normal thing to be requesting. 

“Well…” John slowly walked over to their wall display, hyper aware of the man at his heels. “You can give them some of our lesser quality buds and write a little note on the side that passive aggressively says… what you’d like.” 

“Hmm…” the black haired man strode around the shop, stopping every so often to observe another display. “What are the nicest flowers you have?” 

John cocked his head to the side, but led him to a case filled with all sorts of colored roses. “These tend to be our best sellers and we have a large variety of colors.” 

“I can write a note with them?” 

“But of course,” 

“I’ll take these.” the man held up bright pink roses and nodded to himself. “Yes, these will do.” 

“Right,” John snatched the flowers from his hand, walking over to the counter. “It you want, I can type it up and you can pick the fonts? Or you can hand write it for a more personal touch.” 

“I’ll hand write this one.”

John slid a card over the counter along with a pen and proceeded to type in the serial number on the flowers. The man went on scribbling words all over the card, followed by what must have been a drawing on the back. He stopped suddenly as John was wrapping up the flowers in their plastic holder. 

“Shoot, man, I’m sorry, can I have another card?” 

“Oh, sure!” John slid another one over and pulled out the man’s change. “Here you go, man. Your change.” The stranger took the money graciously and then the flowers. He put the first card in the bouquet and hummed. 

“How does this sound; take these bright pink flowers and shove them up your pretentious ass. Good?” 

John felt his eyes widen and he wanted to laugh, but he didn’t want to offend the man standing in front of him. “I suppose if… if that’s really what you want to say.” 

“He wears bright pink velvet suits all the time, you have no idea how ugly they are.” His laughter filled the air and it was one of the sweetest sounds John had ever heard. He wouldn’t have minded if the stranger came by more often. “Oh, and…” The man fumbled with the second car in his hand still before sliding it across the table. “Thanks for all the help.”

John nodded slowly as he watched the other man leave out the front door. Casting his eyes down onto the card, John gasped lightly. 

‘My name is Alex, call me to find out the rest!’ 

A phone number was written next to the message in messy scribbles. John smiled lightly and pocketed the card, making a mental note to call the man-Alex-as soon as he got off work to see how the ‘fuck you’ flowers worked out.

**Author's Note:**

> On to the next oonnee.


End file.
